[center][h2][color=#008b8b]Fionn MacKerracher[/color][/h2][/center]
[hr][@Octo][hr]

As Fleuri began speaking up, Fionn left Gertrude's side for a moment, back towards the root he had used to climb up. Pushed as it had been, it had sent a fresh shoot up near the top of the hill, that might—someday—have made for a second trunk, given time to grow, paired with the one further down the cliff face. However, given the enemy they had to face, Fionn possessed a different idea. He reached down, taking the shoot in hand, muttering another word at it—[color=#008b8b][i]"Aletou."[/i][/color] At his urging, the shoot grew further, its shape being defined by his intention; straight, smooth, without any branches growing off of it that would need dealt with.

Once it reached just shy of four feet in length, he had it cut itself off at the root. Then he flipped it over, held his sword to the root end, and it grew over the hilt of the blade, wrapping itself around the crossguard to be fully secure. For dealing with dragons, longer weapons would be useful, especially after the minor enchantment granted by Merilia. In lieue of a butt spike for counterweight, the end opposite his blade flared out through the last foot, widening out like a club and helping pull the balance back. Inspecting his handiwork for a moment, Fionn nodded, satisfied—stepped back to the rest just in time to hear the air moving under Thrinax's beating wings.

Lacking any better options—short of dropping back down the side of the cliff and sliding down the root he'd grown—Fionn grabbed onto Gertrude's broom as she set aboard it. [color=#008b8b]"I'll make sure to do that!"[/color] he replied as she commanded him to hold on, lifting off before he'd even pulled himself up to a proper position.

[i][color=#008b8b]Oh. I don't know that I like dangling in the air like this.[/color][/i]

With a white-knuckled grip on both his weapon and Gertrude's broom, Fionn was sped off away from the hilltop at a breakneck speed. [color=#008b8b][i]"Bint!"[/i][/color] he growled down at his weapon, a weightless, ephemeral chain linking it to his wrist almost instantly. One of the spells he'd learned from Erich, much like his pseudo-greatsword before—utilitarian, possibly embarrassing to say in front of the rest due to how they sounded like little more than simple and archaic Thalnish (which, he supposed, they just [i]were)[/i], but invaluable in circumstances such as these. Bigger swords, something to keep you from losing your weapon...both quite helpful when fighting beasts and monsters far larger than oneself, whether demon or dragon.

Confident that he now wouldn't lose his blade, he brought his other hand up to the broom, before heaving his weight up and over it to resume a somewhat-comfortably seated posture. His left hand maintaind its grip, and he yanked his weapon back up into his right, holding it as if it were a lance on horseback.

[i][color=#008b8b]Oh, there's a fun idea. Couch this in my armpit and charge Thrinax in the air...maybe Gertrude will agree to that.[/color][/i]

But not for a while yet, as the dragon would likely be far too prepared for any such exceptionally-bold attacks. They'd have to wear him down first, no doubt. [color=#008b8b]"Thanks for the help!"[/color] he said brightly to the girl piloting the broom. [color=#008b8b]"You've got me starting to think you're not so difficult after all!"[/color]